A Change of Pace
by TheUsualCatacombs93
Summary: Pat Francis has a problem. S.H.I.E.L.D. promised to be a solution. In the middle of a mission, a certain humble physicist, and god of mischief could spoil everything for her. T for now, M possibly later.


CHAPTER ONE: Sore Subject

Gathering her things into an old blue suitcase, took her back. It was like being nine again and preparing for a camping trip with her mother. Those weren't particularly good memories, but the fact that they remained, was always a good sign.

It was a nice day. Perfect in its innocuousness. The apartment, which had recently been remodeled after a small fire, was finally starting to look the way she wanted. Her cats Dr. No and Opie were finally getting along. The cute neighbor girl in number 407 was finally starting to notice her in the hallways. Things were really looking up.

Unfortunately, these facts then made her already raging anger with Nick Fury all the more unbearable. She could be spending today chasing skirts at parks, or building a wheelchair ramp for the ground-level floor, (or at least that's what she chose to believe, she had almost never had success in romancing ladies) but no, she was needed. Sighing, she gathered her things and got into the car waiting outside the apartment.

She ran her hands through lank strands of curly green hair. Although her punk rock phase ended at age fifteen, the green hair became her signature look. She sniffed herself, and while pleased with the scent, conceded she probably should've taken a shower this morning and not half-assed it with the whore's bath.

After escaping the reverie on her own personal hygiene, she looked up at the driver for a moment and recognized a friend (of sorts). In the seat sat Agent Coulson. She smirked and reached up to grab his shoulder. "What's going on, Cheesesteak?"

Coulson looked at her through the reflection in the mirror, contemplating whether or not to respond. He shook his head and looked back at the road. "You're a real son of a bitch, Francis."

She snorted. "Oh, don't be silly… I'm nobody's son. I'm my own bitch." He didn't laugh. Or smile. She grabbed his shoulder again. "Cheesesteak, I hope you're not still pissed about—"

"Don't call me that like we're friends or something."

"Phil, why did Fury send you to pick me up? Is he pissed at you too?"

"He must be."

They sat in silence for what felt like an hour, but in actuality was closer to ten minutes. As she opened her mouth to speak, Phil raised his hand to cut her off. "We're here, so please just get out." He said, unlocking the doors.

Awkwardly she climbed out and looked around, puzzled. He had dropped her off at what appeared to be an abandoned rest stop on the outskirts of Detroit. Despite the fact that she wasn't usually one to perpetuate stereotypes, she knew this wasn't a particularly safe place and no amount of firearms in her bag would keep her out of trouble. Seeing the sun hanging high in the sky did nothing to quell her fears of what might happen if she got left out here until sundown. That would spell disaster for the whole city.

Luckily, she did not have much time to contemplate what the night would bring. A helicopter could be heard approaching somewhere in the distance. Grabbing a pair of sunglasses from her suitcase, she watched as it made its way toward her. Dirt and rocks flew everywhere as it made its slow descent to the ground. By the time the blades stopped spinning, she was completely covered in a thin layer of dust.

When the copter's doors opened a slender, attractive woman with hair like fire stepped out. She stretched her arms and held out her hand. "Patricia, it's been a little while hasn't it?"

"Aye, Natasha. You look…nice. Very nice." Patricia took Natasha's hand in a firm shake. It had been about two years since their last encounter, and although that had not ended well, Natasha seemed to not remember, or at least let it show.

"Thank you. So is this everything?" Natasha asks, gesturing to the lone suitcase.

"Ah, yes. I figured S.H.I.E.L.D. would provide me with everything I didn't bring. At least that'd better be the case. Fury has been on my shit-list since—" Patricia quickly cut herself off. Natasha's eyes widened for just a second, but it was long enough to let Patricia know she remembered.

Not wanting to discuss the past events further, Natasha pulling a manila folder from her seat and handed it to a ruddy-faced Patricia. "So here's the basics on what Fury is calling you in for. You'll want to have that finished by the time we reach our destination."

"Oh excellent, paperwork. And here I thought this three-hour nonstop ride in a cramped space would be unpleasant." Patricia said as they both climbed into the copter.


End file.
